


In All My Dreams

by ginger_green



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27041257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginger_green/pseuds/ginger_green
Summary: Reconciliation isn't always a smooth road.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	In All My Dreams

The ocean gnashed against the wood, every wave a thrust, every throw just short of a shipwreck, drawing high-pitched moans from the tarred decks. From far away came the drum of an approaching storm. The air heaved with resonance of thunder and the scent of lightning. The ship danced and writhed, and down below its deck danced the hearts of the frightened and the outcast. Barely two dozens of them escaped the Gallows. The prize he sought after so eagerly.

Anders sat up, feet dangling above the floor. The room swung left and right but it no longer bothered him. The seasickness had passed. Painfully in the clear, he was left alone with his thoughts, the crying of the ocean, the rattle of metal.

He wished he'd never waken up.

The door was flung open to let in a cold draft and a strong smell of iodine and seaweed. In the frame of grey light stood a large shadow, blinks of candle flame reflected in the dim gold of its eyes. Anders dared not look up.

For a moment Hawke sized him head to toe. He then walked in and closed the door. Anders watched him without turning as he put down the wooden tray with some food and the jug of fresh water he was carrying. When he approached, the mage froze, ashamed to even breathe. Even though he was spared, he still waited for reprise, the punishing blow that would surely come - later on if not now, over time if not instantly.

But the blow didn't come. Instead, Hawke eased onto the bed, pulled a cotton cloth from his pocket, and dipped it into the water. His touch came a gentle breeze as he wiped Anders' cheek and temple, brushed the forehead and the stubbled chin. The warmth of his fingers was bright in the cold liquid. Slowly, in disbelief, Anders let his chest ease again.

In silence passed aching minutes. A row of thunder was moving closer.

"So," Hawke finally said, putting the cloth down. "You lied."

Anders felt the floor shift under his feet.

"I did. And I'd do it again had I the choice."

A droplet trickled down his cheek and settled in the corner of his mouth. He licked his lips. Hawke watched him with a neutral look. 

"Not even an 'I'm sorry', eh?" he hummed without rage or sarcasm. His quiet voice stung worse than a whip. For the first time Anders gathered the courage to raise his eyes. But the golden wells he'd drawn from all these years ran dry. There was no pain or conflict or disdain, just this quiet, attentive light. The light that burned.

"What do you want me to say, Hawke? That I toyed with you, that I should've done better? That I should've put your life on the line as well as mine?"

Anders meant it as a protest but the words sang more like a plea. He couldn't tell if Hawke felt the difference. A wave came crushing into the window. Somewhere close, a lightning struck.

A sudden strike of rage drowned out Anders' guilt. This silence, this peace without resolution - it drove him mad. He wanted nothing more than an answer, any answer; just not the silence, not the study of his morals without passing judgement. He traced the strong lines of Hawke's jaw and felt a burning wish to claw, to split the skin right open and grab the nerves, and _feel him feel_.

"Haven't you suffered enough for the ones you loved?"

The ship flipped to the side; everything went flying. Among the creaking and rumbling of waves and his own loud breath, Hawke grabbed Anders by the collar. His massive body pressed the mage into the mattress and pinned him dead to the spot. Anders made a feeble attempt to move. He couldn't. His anger turned to panic. Hawke inched closer, almost brushing Anders' face. In the bottom of his eyes boiled something akin to anger. His ribs locked between the rogue's thighs, Anders could barely breathe. There was blurred relief in that choking sensation. Finally an answer.

"Do it," he whispered in the warm inch between them. "Do what you want. I cannot bear this any longer."

"You've only just started," Hawke growled in a low, rasp voice. Anders shut his eyes and braced for the pain.

The pain didn't come. Instead, Hawke kissed him.

He pulled back in surprise, a startled cry swallowed by the kiss. Hawke's lips tasted strongly of salt, sour bread and steel. With another swing of the storm their teeth met; Hawke pushed Anders' lips apart with his tongue, his weight knocking the air out of the mage's lungs. Anders whimpered, light-headed. A harsh bite on the lip made him shudder.

"Hawke!.."

The flick of skilled tongue stole his words; the knot of fear in his stomach melted into the prickling pulse of arousal. Hawke held him by the throat with one hand and jerked his robe and shirt with another, every wave shifting his weight from the safe spot directly onto Anders' chest. Another mass of water smashed into the window; the copper buttons of the robe rained onto the floor. Anders moaned and the ship echoed. Thunder rolled through the air like a vibrating string. Hawke's kisses were not just rough but ferocious, each leaving Anders just within the short reach of agony.

This wasn't the punishment he expected.

He wasn't counting the minutes. He only knew he'd run out of breath long before Hawke's iron grasp eased up and let him fall onto the pillow. The kiss broke up; Anders panted, rose-red from lust and lack of air. Hawke's shadow towered over him, a living, stone-etched embodiment of dominance. Anders only managed to calm his breath when he felt Hawke's fingertips brush his lower lip and heard a quiet, even order.

"Open your mouth."

He obeyed, his conscience sinking into the warm depth. He was almost subhuman in this state, a writhing, aching mess, giving way willingly as Hawke's fingers pushed past his teeth, their length rough and scrapping like sandpaper. With just the edge of mind he acknowledged Hawke's weighty palm stroking him slowly through the trousers, and his body pushed forth without thought. A deep groan reverberated through his skull. Another lightning deafened him, further numbing the voice of reason.

This wasn't the fate he envisioned but the result was not far off. He felt like a warm lump of clay changing shape to accommodate the impulse it's given. By the time his trousers followed the robe onto the floor he's long forgotten coherent speech. His only fate was to sob and whimper, and grind desperately against Hawke's hips.

When Hawke pulled back to quickly drop his own clothes, the cool air brought Anders back to life. With a pained cry he reached down to touch himself, unable to stop, his mind ablaze as the rugged landscape of Hawke's muscles came from the fog. Maker, he's _wet_ , wet with the sweat and his own saliva and--

"No," Hawke breathed out, catching him by the wrist. "Not yet."

Anders almost let out a scream. Hawke's grip was firm as metal. In their early days he would sometimes agree to tie Anders down with a silk ribbon or a velvet belt - but it only now dawned upon Anders that Hawke didn't need bondage to completely immobilize him. The vine of fear pulsed slightly stronger. This man could break him with his bare hands.

He leaned back to show his defeat. This pleased his captor; the grip was loosened. Hawke spread him with a slower, gentler touch, seeing he no longer needed any pressure to make Anders do what he wanted. He worked his fingers in one by one, leaning closely to catch each noise Anders made. The gold of his eyes now burned and ate Anders alive. He wasn't ashamed, but this glare made him blush. There was innocence in him, a tender innard, and Hawke knew exactly which way to wring it.

"Hawke, please!.."

"Not yet." There was a roar of flame in that voice. "Not until I know you're sorry."

The ocean heaved and swayed outside, and Anders felt its waves twist around his body. Another swing, another thrust; he made a loud moan and rolled his hips to sink deeper onto Hawke's fingers, and for the first time Hawke's breath hitched and something in him seemed to give in. He pulled his fingers out and grabbed Anders' cock firmly at the base, each stroke a retaliation, an act of revenge for making him feel, for feeling anything at all. Anders found his length by touch, his hand a much lighter, kinder presence - but just as desperate and demanding. He finds a rhythm that comes just short of what Hawke really wants, causing him to groan and lean into Anders' hand. Anders finds it within himself to chuckle.

He comes first, spilling himself over both of their bodies, a long, shaking breath leaving his lungs and whole being empty. He barely registers the violent strength with which Hawke's jaws lock on his shoulder. The giant shadow falls down and engulfs him, absorbs him like water. There's no more ship and ocean and Hawke and Anders in separation. All is uniform. And all is just.

A very, very long time passes before Anders begins to register his surroundings. The storm is still raving outside. The ship is rolling steady like a crib. The sheets are drenched. They knocked the jug over. The food remained intact though, if a bit soaked.

He turns around. Hawke's splayed beside him, eyes closed. He could be thought asleep but Anders knows he's still very much awake. He knows that delicate state of mindfulness, the state in which Hawke isn't thinking or waiting but simply _is_. He rolls over and presses himself tightly to Hawke's body.

"Are you still angry with me?"

"Not quite." Hawke wraps his arms around him, a gesture so familiar it's become muscle memory. "But no more lies. I'm warning you. Or if you are lying, at least make it believable."

"Make it--wait a minute. If you knew I was lying, did you also--"

"Yup."

"You knew all along!"

"Yup."

"And you just... you didn't even!.."

"Nope."

"How am I going to live with you?"

"If it's up for discussion..." Hawke yawns, sitting up straight- "...happily ever after would fit me just fine. Now get your ass over here and eat before I get angry again."


End file.
